


Indecent

by GoodJanet



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Awkwardness, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, Mistletoe, Office Party, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: Pete's punch is spiked at the office Christmas party. Bob just wants to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildcard_47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my _Mad Men_ buddy! I hope you enjoy it! *

Pete honestly can’t believe that the holiday season is upon them again. Already Trudy had picked out an expensive, green velvet dress for Tammy to wear in her picture with Santa. The athletic club her father belonged to was having “family day,” and Santa was going to be a part of it. Trudy had thought it incredibly sweet for him to want to be present in his only granddaughter’s life, but Pete knew his true interest stemmed from the fact that the more guests one brought in, the more tickets one received for the raffle at the end of the day. The club was auctioning off a Rolex this year.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” Pete says over dinner the next evening.

The chicken’s dry, but the potatoes are good. Pete smothers the halves in butter. He takes a sip of his cocktail as he waits for Trudy to start yelling at him to be more present in family matters.

“And why is that, Peter?” she asks.

“That’s the day the office is having its party. You wouldn’t want me to miss work, would you, dear?”

He doesn’t want to go to the office party either, but at least he won’t have to deal with coming up with small talk with Tom and Jeannie Vogel. Pete had hoped that once Tammy was born all the baby talk would stop. It didn’t. If anything, at the joy of finally having one baby around to spoil, Tom had doubled down.

“Maybe next time, it’ll be a boy,” Tom had said. “Someone I can teach to hunt and fish.”

“Well would you?” Pete repeats.

The memory has reminded him of what was at stake here. He’d fight Trudy if he needed to. He wouldn’t like having to do, but he would. He was the man of the house, after all. 

Trudy sighs and puts her utensils down.

“No, Peter. I just don’t want you to miss out on any of these precious moments. Tammy isn’t going to be three forever. She’d miss having her papa around.”

Pete smiles and takes Trudy’s hand in his.

“I knew you’d understand, darling.”

He leans in to kiss her, and Trudy offers her cheek to him. That wasn’t nearly as difficult as he thought it would be. He takes another bite of chicken.

“This is delicious, by the way.”

~*~*~*~*~

Pete regrets opting to go to the office party the moment Roger declares the work day officially over.

“I don’t care if you’re eating and drinking, but I’d better not catch any of you making merry in my office.”

Everyone chuckles and someone puts a Dean Martin Christmas album on, but Pete just wants to die. Maybe seeing Santa wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe if he left now, he could make it back to the house in time to meet up with all the Vogels.

“Hello, Pete!” a voice behind him chirps.

Pete stifles a groan and turns around. He plasters on a polite smile. Just what he needed right now…

“Hello, Bob.”

“I brought this for you. I saw you were emptyhanded.”

Bob hands him a glass half-filled with something red. Bob’s own glass was green. How appropriate.

“What is this?” Pete asks, taking a sip.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Bob admits. “Something Joan mixed up. Ted said there’d be hors d’oeuvre later. And thank god because this stuff is strong.”

“You’re telling me.”

Pete drinks some more. Maybe, if he got drunk enough, he’d forget all about this party and Trudy and Tammy and Tom.

“Oh, I love this one!” Bob says.

Pete shakes his head. Whatever was in this _was_ strong. Pete tries to refocus. 

“One what?” Pete asks.

“‘Let It Snow.’”

“Hmmm.”

Why was Benson still talking to him? And why was he still talking to Benson? Where was Peggy? His eyes scan the room. Peggy provide some interesting conversation. Pete takes a step forward and wobbles.

“Whoa there!” Bob says, grinning broadly as he catches Pete’s elbow. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Pete looks down at his glass. It was nearly empty. Benson was probably right.

“Fine,” Pete says grudgingly.

Linked arm in arm, Bob leads him through the scrum of people crowded into and outside of the break room. Ken gives them a wave, and Joan laughs when she sees what her handy work at the punch bowl has done to Pete. Bob sits him down on the couch and promises to be right back with a plate for him. Of course, that is when Peggy comes by. She sits down beside him.

“Jesus, are you alright? You look like death.”

“Thanks, Peggy. That’s thoughtful of you.”

“Sorry,” she says. “It’s just, I know you can hold your liquor better than this.”

He thinks back to this morning, how he’d rushed out the door before Trudy could try to change his mind. He hadn’t wanted to fight. She wasn’t going to make him spend the day with her family when he didn’t want to.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got you a little of everything,” Bob says upon his return.

Peggy’s head turns to Bob, then back to Pete.

“Oh. You haven’t eaten.”

And couldn’t she just go away now? Did there have to be witnesses to all of his humiliations?

Peggy stands up and smooths down her royal blue skirt. She pats him on the shoulder, and his cheeks flame.

“Feel better, Pete.”

Bob sits down in her vacated seat, and Pete watches as she disappears into the throng of secretaries. Bob puts a plate of goodies in his lap.

“You’re white as a sheet. You need to eat something.”

Pete pops a pig in a blanket into his mouth.

“Do you want some water?” Bob asks.

“Do _you_ want the whole office to talk about us, Benson!? Do you want everyone to think that you’re my—”

Pete cuts himself off when Ken, Harry, and two girls from the steno pool begin a dance contest a few feet away from them. A small crowd forms around them to cheer their team on. Neither of them was terribly good, Pete notes.

“Well…,” Pete continues. “It’s indecent, is what it is. You’re being indecent.”

Bob frowns.

“Bringing you food and water when you’re not well is indecent?”

“You _know_ what you’re doing, Benson.”

Pete eats some chocolate-covered pretzels to give himself time to think.

“I like taking care of you, Pete. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Pete ignores the look Bob gives him lets his legs fall open just enough for his leg to rest up against Pete’s. Pete is convinced the man doesn’t know the definition of the word “subtle.” Pete swallows his outrage, clears his throat, and adjusts his seat so they weren’t touching anymore. Perhaps if he just ignored Bob, he’d go away. Bob moves closer just as Don was sauntering over the drink table.

Don notices. He takes a drink from his glass of red punch, and his eyes flick down to where their knees met. The fact that they were sitting on a couch large enough that this shouldn’t have been an issue did not escape his notice either. Don gives them one more once over before nodding and striding off in the direction of his office.

 _If there was ever going to be a man, it would’ve been Draper_ , Pete idly thinks before shaking his head.

No, no, that was ridiculous. He’d been hanging around Benson too much. More precisely, Bob had been hanging around _him_ too much. Pete supposes he’s partially to blame for it. If he really wanted Bob to leave, he could have made him. But what was the use of making a scene? Pete was raised to behave better than Burt Peterson.

“I need some air,” Pete says.

He puts down his little plate of treats and stands up on legs that only wobble a little. The food had certainly cleared his head though. He later finds out that someone had spiked Joan’s first batch of drinks with absinthe. And apparently he and a few others had gotten a spiked glass before Joan had dumped the stuff.

“Let me go with you.”

Bob reaches out for his arm, but Pete dodges. He weaves his way through the dancers and his colleagues who were standing around munching on holiday food. He catches Meredith secreting the apple she won in a bobbing contest—if her soaked dress front was any indication—into her purse.

Pete decides that the lobby is quiet and secluded enough that he stops there. He comes to rest with his back against a wall and takes a deep breath. It felt good to have something solid to lean on. He closes his eyes for a moment to block out his vision of the party. When he opens them again, Bob Benson was there.

“What do you want from me?” Pete asks.

“Mistletoe,” Bob said, finger pointing upwards.

He couldn’t be suggesting…

“I get to kiss you now, don’t I?”

But he doesn’t really mean it like a question. 

“Benson, I—”

Before he can think of anything scathing enough to put Bob off, their lips are crushed together. For a fraction of a second, Pete embraces the butterflies that erupt in his chest. And god, Bob’s lips are surprisingly soft. But wait. No. That wasn’t right.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Pete asks, pulling away.

Bob has a dopey grin on his face that not even Pete’s biting tone can diminish.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time, you know,” Bob says.

Pete puffs his chest out, ready to tell him off once and for all, but, as he keeps looking at Benson, he knows he’s not going to. The rage rushes out of him in a sigh of defeat. Pete has learned over the years that even admitting defeat could render some positive results.

“You really know how to wear a guy down, Benson.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me kiss you again?”

Pete looks back at the break room. They had started up a game of charades. Ginsberg was doing a poor imitation of either Hitler or Charlie Chaplin. No one was even looking in their direction.

“Well, it _is_ Christmas…”

Bob doesn’t think he could ever get a better present than that.


End file.
